The Lost Wand
by AmazingGraceless
Summary: Morgen Drosselmire is a young heiress always getting into fights over her infamous heritage. In an attempt to restrain her behavior, she is forced to attend a school she vowed never to attend- Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Morgen is forced into a world where mysteries abound. Rumors and legends twist together into a conspiracy. Across the pond, a story begins. . .
1. Prologue

Outside the principal's office of the Salem Institute for Sorceresses perched a girl of fifteen. As soon as the adults had entered the office, Morgen sat with her legs leaning up against the wall as she watched the ongoings of the school office upside down, her dark ponytail trailing to the floor.

Morgen could hear the conversation inside, despite the fact that they'd clearly kept her away so she wouldn't hear this very conversation.

"Please, Madam Mim, I'm begging you, Morgen deserves to remain in this school," Grandfather Drosselmire argued. "Those girls clearly started that fight! She just finished it."

"Well, I'm afraid all the evidence of that is circumstantial-"

"And you only believe the girls who have so-called respectable families," Grandfather Drosselmire said angrily. There was a thump of his cane as he stood up. Morgen quickly twisted her body around until she was sitting like the pureblood heiress she was, legs crossed, her hands clasped demurely, her uniform covering her prudishly.

"Well, not to offend you, Mr. Drosselmire, sir, but one of those girls is from a No-Maj family, and we know how your family has gone over with No-Majs," Madam Mim said firmly.

Morgen clenched handfuls of her skirt to contain her rage. She could practically feel her grandfather's seething from the other side of the wall. _I didn't lay a hand on Amy Gumm. She's the one who punched me. I just pulled out my damn wand like a respectable lady! And look where that got me!_

"That was our past," he finally answered. "I see that my granddaughter is not welcome at your school. I am grateful then that you have saved me the trouble of putting money into this school. Good day, Madam Mim!"

Morgen stood as the door opened. Grandfather Drosselmire strolled out and nodded in acknowledgement of Morgen.

"Come with me, _Liebling_ ," he said, with a gesture towards the door. Morgen nodded, careful to keep her face blank as she exited the main office. _Goodbye Institute, goodbye Mim, goodbye Amy Gumm! Good riddance!_

Her luggage was waiting out in the circular driveway when Grandfather Drosselmire's elegant-looking black car pulled in. Grandfather Drosselmire snapped his fingers, causing the trunk to open. He turned to Morgen.

"Do you think you can do a basic Leviation spell on this?" he asked. Morgen nodded and pulled her wand out of its special pocket in her blazer. She brandished it with confidence.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," she said confidently, and with a swish and a flick, the luggage hovered about a foot above the ground. Carefully, she controlled the flight of it until it landed in the trunk. Grandfather Drosselmire snapped his fingers and the trunk snapped shut. Morgen placed her wand back inside her blazer pocket.

She then opened the door and gestured to her grandfather. "You first."

"Thank you, Morgen." He stepped inside and sat down in the car. Morgen slipped in next to him and buckled her seatbelt, even if it was just for appearances. "Back to the manor, Schuyler. Thank you."

Their driver smiled politely, and the car started out of the circular driveway of the Salem Institute for Sorceresses.

"Well, Morgen, we're in quite the spot once again," Grandfather Drosselmire said reluctantly with a false air of cheeriness. "This is the third school you've been expelled from. I've tried to respect your wishes about attending neither Ilvermorny, nor Durmstrang. This is also the first one you've managed to be asked never to return to in the first month of the school year."

"I know, I know," Morgen said.

"The International Space Academy, the Mr. Gold's school in Storybrooke, even the Salem Institute," Grandfather Drosselmire listed off. "I'm running out of options that are suitable for a talented girl like yourself. It's time that you compromised. It's Ilvermorny or Durmstrang."

"What about the Dare Academy?" Morgen protested. "Surely they'll let me into-"

"I'm done bargaining with you, Morgen!" Grandfather Drosselmire snapped. "I'm at my wit's end with you! I have asked you time and time again to follow the rules, to behave, but you always keep getting yourselves into fights like these!"

"Amy Gumm started it," Morgen muttered.

"I don't care if Miss Gumm started it," Grandfather Drosselmire said firmly. "I can see that you need to learn discipline, and you simply aren't going to learn it from one of the lesser schools."

"Well, maybe if people would stop assuming that I hate No-Majs because I happen to be related to that idiot across the Atlantic, maybe I'd stop getting into fights," Morgen said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It was bad enough when they knew my family went to Durmstrang! It's just not fair."

"Life's not fair, Liebling," Grandfather Drosselmire answered. "You might as well get used to it. Your situation is far better than others'. Now tell me, which school are you attending?"

Morgen sighed, conflicted. _At Ilvermorny, they'll know about my stupid ancestors and expect me to be the greatest witch in the world. But at Durmstrang, everyone will be right about me and my family. Besides, I'm not going to be a Dark witch, I'm not!_

There really was no further contemplation required. The answer seemed obvious to her.

"Ilvermorny."


	2. Isolt's Own

Morgen tugged at her cranberry tie nervously, then pulled down the azure blazer sleeves. She smiled nervously at Grandfather Drosselmire, who had become more and more relaxed as she continued to passively go along with attending Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I promise I'll write once a week," Morgen said.

"I know you will," Grandfather Drosselmire said as he patted her hand. "I will also be writing to your teachers to keep informed on your progress."

"Of course, Grandfather," Morgen said with an obedient nod of the head. The car stopped in front of the great marble statues of Isolt Sayre and James Steward. She kissed her grandfather on the cheek. "I'll be good this time, I promise."

"I know," he replied. "Thank you, Morgen. Good luck."

Morgen unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. Schuyler walked around to pick up her luggage for the pukwudgies floating about.

"I wish you luck, Miss Morgen," he said warmly. "From what Mr. Drosselmire says, it sounds like you're going to become a great witch."

"Thank you, Schuyler," she said, slightly uncomfortable with the compliment. "Let me take those bags!"

Before he could do anything, she snatched a good portion of her luggage and set it on the ground for the pukwudgies. Her grandfather wouldn't like it, she knew, but she always squirmed inside when seeing someone fetch her luggage when she could do it her damn self.

"Thank you, Miss Morgen," Schuyler said, shaking off shock. "I'll see you around." He hopped back into the car, and it began to drive off. Morgen waved after it until it was obscured by gray clouds. Morgen turned around as she held back her tears.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking to the pukwudgies, "do you know where William is? My letter said that he's supposed to show me around before the Sorting tonight."

"I'm here, I'm here," a shrill voice grumbled. Morgen whipped around to see a pukwudgie flying away from his perch next to Isolt Sayre's statue. "Hello, I'm William, head pukwudgie at Ilvermorny, blah blah blah. . ."

"Um, thanks for showing me around," Morgen said.

"Well, I had to see Isolt's own returning to Ilvermorny," he said brightly. "It's been a while since a Sayre attended."

"I'm a Drosselmire, not a Sayre," Morgen corrected.

"You look like her," William said, gesturing towards the statue of Isolt. Indeed, the soft features of the Irish immigrant did resemble Morgen's own. "Trust me, you're a dead ringer for Morrigan, as they called her back in the day. In fact, that's your name, isn't it?"

"It's Morgen- MOR-gen, not More-i-gan," she enunciated. "It's German."

"Could've sworn it was Welsh," William muttered. "Well, the whole being a Drosselmire thing might've slipped the Headmaster's mind."

Morgen's brandy-brown eyes widened in horror. "What?"

"You might've been entered as Morgen Sayre," William said with somewhat of a nervous appearance.

"Oh God, I didn't know they were gonna do that!" Morgen shrieked as she ran a hand through her braid, pulling a few strands loose.

"It's not that bad, in the scheme of things," William offered. "Let me tell you a secret. I knew Isolt- which you can't tell anyone, by the way, I've still got to have something to pull over on the kids- and she was a great witch. I can't think of one reason to be ashamed about being her kin."

"I can, Morgen said boldly. "Slytherin. Tom Riddle. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"So there were a few bad apples on your family tree," he said with a shrug. "There's some pretty great ones, too. Whether you're a rotten one or the best of the bunch? That's for you to decide. But I bet you'll want that tour?"

Morgen nodded. "Yes please, William."

"Please, eh? I think I'm going to like you," the pukwudgie said with a wink. "Follow me, you're going to like it here at Ilvermorny."

He led her past the great doors, and up one of the staircases winding up to a circular theater above a chamber with carvings illuminated by the sun-window.

"This, Sayre, is where you're going to be sorted," he said. "There's four houses- Great Horned Serpent- actually the Uktena, but Isolt didn't know much about what the locals call them- kinda wish I hadn't let her pull that as a joke after the Cherokee students got pissed-" he shuddered "-but anyways, the Great Horned Serpent is for scholars, Wampus for warriors, Thunderbird for adventurers, and of course, the best house for last, named for yours truly, Pukwudgie, a house of healers."

"Pukwudgie, Great Horned Serpent- I mean Uktena, Wampus, and Thunderbird, got it," Morgen repeated.

"Good, no mispronunciations- even the purebloods can get annoying with that," William muttered. "Come on, we haven't got all day!"

Morgen smiled as she followed the pukwudgie around the granite castle. "Do you have your schedule? Let's see? Fairchild, Starkweather, ooh, March, is it? Hm... Aisling, Skyler, you'll like her, and ah, Calderon. I'll show you around to your classes. Unlike Hogwarts, from what I've heard, we're not so uptight about houses. Common rooms are open for visitors, just not the dorms- you know how teenagers are! Well, come on, this castle isn't going to show itself off!"

* * *

It was almost sundown when William led Morgen into the gardens.

"Shouldn't we get back? I need to be in the chamber at seven," Morgen said worriedly. "Can't disappoint everyone, especially when everyone's going to be watching just me."

"Look kid, I'll get you there in time," he promised. "There's something I've got to show you. Trust me, you'll like this."

The gray flying creature continued on through the gardens, until he approached a hedge.

"You willing to get a little dirty, kid?" William asked.

"But I have to appear in front of the entire school," Morgen whined.

"School could care less," he said with a shrug. "It's first impressions and here's the thing I've seen in over three hundred years- people do get second chances, and third, and fourth. That means you get than many impressions, too. Besides, appearing in dirt with old William here? That's a mystery, and there's nothing that goes together better than magic and mysteries."

Morgen nodded. "Alright, so I start crawling under those bushes?"

"Yep, very bright there, kid," he said encouragingly. He then flitted under and through himself. Morgen only hesitated a second before wriggling under the hedge, spreading magically-enhanced dirt all over her uniform as she entered a clearing, empty except for a large tree with leafy vines twisting all around it like a snake.

It felt right to Morgen as she walked around it. It felt like the home she truly hadn't had since she was small. . .

"There's a lot of legends surrounding this tree," William said, hovering in front of her as she circled the tall, winding tree. "They say that Slytherin's own wand was buried here, and it grew up to be a nice tree like this. No one's ever been able to prune it or remove it, and the leaves are pretty useful for the hospital. Use 'em wrong, though, and you'll poison a kid.

"Thing is, kid," he continued, "this tree has good and bad in it, just like your family tree. Either way, the way I see it, this tree is yours. Now, Sayre, it's been said that the heir of Slytherin can talk to this tree. That they can control it. Why don't you give it a try?"

"I can't." Morgen backed away.

"Oh, you're not a Parselmouth?" William asked skeptically.

"I am, I just- I can't be a Dark Witch, William," Morgen said, shaking her head. "I can't do it."

The pukwudgie looked disappointed. "Well, remember this, kid- you can't run from your family forever. Now, I'm sure you want to go back to the Sorting?"

"Yes, I should before I get in trouble," Morgen said reluctantly as she looked over her dirt-covered knees and stained blazer and blouse. She crawled back under the bushes and followed William back to the opening chamber.

* * *

She dusted herself as best she could and adjusted the Gordian knot pin on her tie before she adjusted her posture. _Stand straight and tall, like an heiress should,_ she thought to herself as she drew herself to her full height, an average one at that. She strolled into the hall, shoulders back, eyes straight ahead as she held her head high.

The whole school and faculty was in the seating arena as she waited. The tower seemed to go up forever, overflowing with people.

"Now, in a surprise transfer, our founder's own heir and descendant, Morgen Sayre had come to be sorted into one of our four grand houses!" announced a man through a magical megaphone.

Morgen plastered a polite smile to her face and stepped into the light, onto the Gordian knot, surrounded by the four carvings in the wall. There was a moment of silence. Then the Wampus roared, the Thunderbird flapped its wings, a stone in the Great Horned Serpent's forehead lit up, and the Pukwudgie lifted its arrow.

"Sayre! It appears you've been picked for all four houses! You must choose your fate!" the

megaphone man shouted. The tower filled with roars as everyone clamored for the last Slytherin to join one of their houses.

Time seemed to drag on forever as Morgen tried to decide, but she was paralyzed in the roar of the crowd. Nervously, she looked back to William, who nodded encouragingly. She then remembered his advice.

 _"The best house for last, named after yours truly. . ."_

"I choose Pukwudgie!" Morgen announced. For a moment, she was afraid no one had heard her. But then all the carvings reverted to their states before, except for the pukwudgie carving.

"Alright! Now, let's head to dinner! Congratulations, Morgen Sayre!"

Morgen followed the students into a section of the cafeteria under banners of the pukwudgie, unsure of what was to come next.


	3. Janna

The Pukwudgie section of the cafeteria was on the upper floor, with the banners everywhere. Morgen sat down at one of the cafeteria tables, and looked down at the tray, then at the menu propped up with brochures for various teams and clubs in the center of the table.

"Pizza, cheese please," she said loudly to her tray. The pizza appeared, two slices, on the tray. Morgen smiled, relieved that this at least still was the same as the Salem Institute. The two square slices disappeared in surprisingly hungry bites, leaving her wanting a little more. She glanced over at the menu again.

"Um, strawberries?" she shrugged, not entirely sure of what she wanted. A small fruit cup full of more fruits than just strawberries and a disposable spoon appeared on the tray. She began balancing strawberries and grapes on the flimsy plastic spoon,

"Hey."

Morgen almost dropped her spoon is surprised. She kind of liked the wide berth she was being given. Still, she knew she should make friends, that she should be nice, like she promised Grandfather Drosselmire.

"Hello," she said, and looked up to see a girl clearly in her year. Her red hair cascaded around her shoulders, and her dark green eyes looked like a nebula.

"I'm Sol," she said with a big-toothed grin. "It must really suck to have everyone watching you. I know how that is- one of my best buddies, Janna Fairchild, she had a huge crowd around her, too. I don't know what you were thinking, transferring after the Sorting's done."

"I managed to get myself expelled within a month," Morgen said awkwardly.

"Really?" Surprisingly, Sol was still cheerful. "What did you get expelled for?"

"Fighting, mostly," Morgen admitted.

"Ooh." Sol quickly slurped on whatever was in the styrofoam cup she'd gotten from the magic tray. "What were they about?"

"It doesn't matter, they were stupid," Morgen lied, faking a laugh. They might know I'm related to Isolt Sayre- but do they realize that means I'm related to a bunch of infamous racists?

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Sol said, clearly seeing through Morgen's lie. "Anyways, I think we'll be rooming together- usually it's four girls to a dorm, and we only have three in mine- Janna Fairchild, Rosemary Carter, and me! Don't worry, it'll be a blast!"

"Who's Janna Fairchild?" Morgen asked. "You keep mentioning her."

"Oh, you know the Fairchild family, right?" Sol asked in reply.

"Yes, a respectable pureblood family," Morgen said, reciting what she'd heard Grandfather Drosselmire say about the Sacred Fifty of the United States of America.

Sol shifted uncomfortably at that. "Well, she's Michael Fairchild's daughter."

"What?" Morgen blinked. "I have him for Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"So do I and the rest of my dorm," Sol said, wincing.

"I'd think that they wouldn't allow Fairchild to teach his own daughter," Morgen said.

"Oh, I'm sure they wouldn't if it wasn't Fairchild," Sol practically spat the name out.

"I thought he was a legend- is he really bad at teaching, or something?" Morgen asked, confused about the name she'd seen on the New Roanoak Post.

"Outside of the school, they still remember his Auror days and how he still manages to pump out good Aurors," Sol explained, clenching her fists more and more as she talked about it more. "In here, though? He's a nightmare. Strict as hell- if you even mention anything as heavy as a minor jinx, he gets mad, calling it Dark Magic. And don't you dare mention any dark wizards on your family tree- Merlin, I still feel bad for poor Baelfire Gold!"

"Ugh, who names their kid that?" Morgen blurted out.

"Mr. Gold, who runs the school in Massachusetts," Sol said pointedly. "Anyway, Baelfire got pulled from Ilvermorny and went to his father's school in Storybrooke. Seriously, Fairchild screwed him up- well, you'll see, since you are related to some dark wizards, if what I've heard is true about Isolt Sayre."

"Can't wait," Morgen said dryly.

"I'm sorry, you probably don't want to talk about things like that!" Sol cried, and she was smiling again. "I promise, it'll be lots of fun here! We've got Quodpot and Quidditch, and ooh- there are tons of clubs! I run the Cosplay Club- it's pretty fun, sewing costumes and just making stuff! Then there's the Magizoology Club!"

"Wow, that sounds interesting," Morgen admitted. "When do Quidditch try-outs start?"

"Really? Quidditch, not Quodpot?" Sol asked in mock dismay.

"My grandfather would prefer it if I played Quidditch," Morgen said, shifting uncomfortably. "Thinks it's more dignified for a pureblood heir."

"I see," Sol said. "You know, blood-purity really doesn't matter all that much."

"I know it doesn't," Morgen said. "But my grandfather thinks it does."

"What about your parents?" Sol asked. "What do they think?"

"They're dead," Morgen said flatly. "Six feet under for six years."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Sol offered.

"It's alright," Morgen said with shrug. "Death's a part of life."

She couldn't remember how many times her grandfather had said that, or how many counsellors had started off with that line."

"Doesn't mean that isn't rough, though," Sol continued. Morgen shrugged again.

"You're really not one for talk, are you?" Sol asked. Morgen smiled apologetically. "That's alright- everyone's shy on their first day. Just come find me if you need anything- I'm always happy to help."

Morgen nodded as Sol got up and walked away. She sighed, knowing that she had bungled that first impression. But she didn't know what to say- how could she? She'd never had that many friends, and all of them left in one way or another.

 _Step up your game_ , she told herself harshly. _You've gotta make yourself better- fit in here, do well here, and try to survive until graduation. Then it doesn't matter._

She stood up and started towards the hallway, where she saw a few people trickling out the doorways of the great cafeteria. She followed the few students with golden pukwudgies on the back of their azure cloaks, much like her own now. She followed them through the corridors until she came to two wide open doors, the inside as big as the ballroom in Drosselmire Manor.

Morgen slipped inside and marveled at the room. The room resembled a forest in Michigan, as they might've been once upon a time. The Lady's Slippers grew out of the floor, as did trees with roots that curled into seats, like the pukwudgies were gracing them with thrones. The night sky was visible beyond the leaves of the trees towering over Morgen.

"Like the common room, kid?"

Morgen turned to see William hovering on by and smiled.

"Yeah, I like it a lot," she said.

"Modeled it after the Spirit Wood- man, those were the days- there was this lady, Leelinau- I'll have to tell you the tale someday!" William cried in delight.

"I'm recognize the pines, the Lady's Slippers," Morgen told him as she stared around the amazing Pukwudgie common room. "It's from Michigan, isn't it? That's where you're from, aren't you? You must be a long way from your home."

"When you have centuries to live, you explore a bit," William said with a shrug. "We come from a lot of places, but most of us do come from the Great Lakes. And missing it? Maybe now and then, but I chose to stay- all of us made that choice- we're not like those house-elves, for the love of all that's good!"

"That's good," Morgen said slowly. "I wouldn't want anyone to feel trapped here. No one deserves to work without pay."

"Oh, so you're one of those S.P.E.W. kids?" William asked, looking clearly impressed.

"Not yet, but I agree with the politics," Morgen said diplomatically and honestly.

"Seriously, you don't talk like a kid," William remarked. His round facial expressions dropped into something serious as the twinkle in his eye changed from a more childlike one to perhaps one most would call thoughtful. "We're going to have to teach you how to be a kid."

"That's really not necessary," Morgen said quickly. She glanced towards two doors across the common room. "I'm tired, mind if I retire to the dorms?"

"Well, here's the room number Dean Potter gave me," the pukwudgie said, looking a little disappointed as he handed Morgen a key with a room number engraved on the head. "You'll be rooming with Fairchild's daughter, that Carter girl named after some sort of herb, and Sol Castellan. Room 3BPG."

"Thanks, William," Morgen said as she took the key. "Thank you for everything."

"It's no problem, kid, I know you're going to make a great witch," William said. "Just come find me if you need any help with anything- especially magic."

Morgen nodded, and then turned and started towards the doors on the other side of the room, picking the one that was clearly labeled Ladies. She started up the stairs until she was on the third floor and opened the door to the hallway. She quickly unlocked the door to room 3B and walked in to see girl studying what looked to be a Magical Runes textbook.

"Hey," Morgen said. "I'm your new roommate, Morgen Dross- I mean, Sayre. Who are you?"

"Janna Fairchild," the girl said, looking up and shaking hands with Morgen without getting up from the bed. "Nice to meet you. Sorry, but I've got to study-"

"Hey, Rose," a girl who looked almost exactly like the girl Morgen just talked to. It was the slight angles of their nose, the expressions on their face, maybe one had barely rosier cheeks than the other, but the more Morgen looked between the two of them, the more confused she was.

"Oh, is this the new kid?" the girl who came in asked. "Sorry, I'm Janna, that's Rosemary Carter, my body double."

"Hello!" Rosemary waved again as she got up from the bed. "Your dad didn't come around, thank God, so you really didn't need me to do this."

"You never know," Janna said with a certain sageness. "Thank you so much, Rose, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Yeah, you'd just get in trouble for not being 110% perfect," Rosemary teased.

"I think I'd miss you for more than just that," Janna said with a certain frankness that was strange to Morgen- and the air around them seemed exactly like the couples she's had seen "sucking face" in every school she had been to.

"But maybe we should talk when we don't have other roommates here," Rosemary said with a shrewd smile. She looked to Morgen. "Your stuff is over in the section across from Sol's."

"I met her in the cafeteria," Morgen said quickly. "Thanks."

"No problem," Rosemary and Janna chorused.

Morgen walked over to the alcove where her bed, desk/dresser, and luggage were. She quickly unpacked her clothes, sorting as neatly as she could while burying some of her most prized possessions. The poster for her favorite movie her mother showed her when she was six years old, rolled up so no one could see what it was, several books with covers detailing unicorns and dragons, a few snowglobes with tiny cities inside, a witch doll with a starry dress and blue-green ringlets - all things her mother had given her, things she didn't let her grandfather see. Finally, she pulled out her favorite thing- a stuffed lion cub done in the animated style of her parents' favorite- Simba, they called him.

She placed it behind her pillow, despite the childishness of having him at all. She stripped her clothes, threw them into the laundry basket, and threw on a nightshirt. She turned off her wall-light, and threw the covers over her head as she hugged the stupid stuffed lion. Simba was an anchor as she settled into nightmares of the past involving blood and green jets of light.


	4. Dead Wizards Society

The next morning, she got up, putting on the uniform since it wasn't "Casual Friday" yet. She made sure to fasten the cloak with her brooch, and kept re-doing her ponytail until not a single strand was out of place. She's made sure that her school books ad everything she needed, and that her Jonkers wand was properly polished, then walked to the cafeteria while Janna and Rosemary styled each other's hair.

Morgen knew she needed to stay quiet, stay calm, and be friendly. _Don't get yourself kicked out or anything._

The first half of her day went by like a dejâ-vou, with crowded hallways, her emotions detached from the positive energy of the crowd as she squeezed on by. The classes were just like Salem, the classes just as memorable.

She stumbled into fourth period with eyes glazed from concentration and her left hand smudged by pencils. Morgen pulled out another new notebook she was about to break in and began up the steps of the lecture hall. She'd gotten only three levels up when she heard someone call her name.

"Morgen! Come sit with us!"

She turned to see Rosemary, Janna, and Sol all sitting in a row. Morgen managed something more than her usual polite smile that matched her glazed eyes very well as she sat down next to Janna.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"No problem, you're going to want to brace yourself- my dad's intense," Janna warned.

"I can handle intense," Morgen assured her.

"Good, but even if you couldn't, you wouldn't be the only fifth-year to need to go to the nurse's office," Janna said.

"Whenever Fairchild teaches a new grade besides his usual first-years, they all end up traumatized," Sol chimed in.

The bell rang, and everyone scurried to their feet. From an office adjoining Fairchild's classroom and Easthaven's, Michael Fairchild entered. He was a tall, physically-imposing man in a steel-gray cloak in contrast with his all-black uniform underneath. His face was all angles and his eyes gleamed as sharply as a knife.

"Welcome to another week in Ilvermorny's Defense course," he declared, pacing the length of the lecture floor. "Today, we continue our study of Archangel's history as the Department of Magical Education has deemed worthy for young ones like yourselves to know. This week, we will be studying the Morgansterns."

Fairchild stopped and raised his wand to the ceiling, and an image sprang to where everyone could see. Morgen immediately felt sick, looking at the image. It was clearly a boy beaten within an inch of his life, not even that- she realized when her eyes caught the heart-

She forced her head between her knees. The image wouldn't leave her mind, it was all she could see even when she closed her eyes, rocking slightly as she remembered the sticky blood, the iron smell, the rocking itself as the sirens screamed and people came running.

Morgen could see the green jet of light again, and tried to block it out of her mind, tried not to scream. She screwed her eyes shut, trying not to cry, to break down, to not be weak. It had been six years- why couldn't she pull herself together?

"Miss Sayre, do you need to go to the nurse's office?" Morgen managed to control her nausea enough to look up. A few others were looking green, but she was determined not to be weak.

"I'm fine," she almost spat in her determination to stay calm, to be strong. _She had to. Purebloods are made of true steel and grit._

"Alright then," Fairchild said, and he waved his wand, dissolving the picture. "That was the last heir of Morganstern, Revan. This is what happened to his father, Dominick Morganstern."

Morgen's hand went to her mouth. While it wasn't nearly as bloody or gory as the last photograph, she was seeing a man dead on the ground in the darkness. Maybe it wouldn't bother her as much if it were bright sunlight, not the night. . .

 _No, stay strong_ , she told herself forcibly. _You're going to act like a pureblood._

She just let her pen glide across the notebook, not daring to look up again.

"The Morgansterns, while most of them are respectable like our own Tana Morganstern of the Charms department," Fairchild continued, "the branch of Armitage Morganstern has been set on running Archangel, from what we deduced from Revan Morganstern's memories."

Morgen thought she saw something in Sol and Janna flinched, but ignored it, figuring that it was something like her reaction. She couldn't believe the callousness of stealing the memories from a kid who they clearly dismembered despite being seventeen at the eldest, maybe not even that.

* * *

After class, she wanted nothing more to get out when she heard her name.

"Miss Sayre, if you could come with me, please," Mr. Fairchild said. Janna looked worried, but Morgen walked into the backroom. She wouldn't act afraid. It wasn't respectable. Besides, there was nothing to fear- right?

She waited and he came in.

"Could you pick up that set of books?" he asked. She picked it up and heard a click. She whipped around, and saw that the door was closed, and Fairchild had somehow gotten a mouse.

" _Crucio_ ," he said with a careful, quiet power to him. Morgen's eyes widened and she dropped the books upon seeing the mouse in pain, squeaking and squealing. " _Imperio_."

The mouse began to dance and do cartwheels. Morgen let out a high-pitched laugh of fear, it was all she could do, feeling frozen on the spot. Fairchild looked disturbed at her hysterical laughter.

"This is no laughing matter," he almost growled.

Morgen shook her head frantically. "N-no sir," she said between frantic giggles.

" _AV_ -"

"NO!" Morgen screamed, and she snatched up the tiny mouse before Fairchild could kill it. Rocking, like she did before in the lesson, before in the presentation at Mr. Gold's school, as she did six years before. She clutched the mouse under her cloak as tears of fear continued, sobs sounding an awful lot like laughs.

"Miss Sayre- MISS SAYRE, SNAP OUT OF IT!" Mr. Fairchild bellowed. He reached for the mouse, but she let it slip out of her hands and into her schoolbag.

"No! Not so you can kill it!" she shrieked, almost not aware that she was talking to her _teacher_. She bolted towards the door, and realized it was locked. She pounded on the door, elbowing Mr. Fairchild in attempt to defend herself as he tried to peel her off the door.

Finally, the door opened, but to the wrong classroom. Jayden Easthaven stood there with Tana Morganstern clearly in the room as well, both ladies looking irritated and bewildered.

Before anyone could say anything, the mouse dashed out onto the floor, and Morgen practically jumped on top of it.

"Miss Sayre-"

"You've done enough here," Morganstern said icily as Morgen got to her feet with the mouse in hand. "Go get ready for your next class, Michael- we'll handle this."

"I want my mouse back," Mr. Fairchild said irritably.

"He's not going back to an animal murderer!" Morgen cried, hugging the mouse close.

"He's not your mouse, he's Mr. Fairchild's," Easthaven said in a calm voice.

"And he was torturing it and was about to murder it!" she shrieked.

"I'll take it," Morganstern said. "I'll take it. Give me the mouse."

"Tana, this isn't your business-"

"I told you, you've done enough," Morganstern said icily as she gently took the mouse from Morgen. "Let me guess, you tried to do the same thing you do to the first-years? You clearly didn't read the file!"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Fairchild demanded, glancing at Morgen, then Tana.

"Michael!"

"I'm going to take her to the nurse's office," Easthaven said.

"No- I should get to class-" Morgen said quickly.

"I think it would be best if you went to the nurse's office- you seem pretty upset," Easthaven said.

"No, I'm late enough to Skyler's class as it is," Morgen said as she swiped her tears away.

"What didn't I read?" Mr. Fairchild demanded in a low voice as Easthaven ushered Morgen out.

"Michael, her parents were murdered with the Killing Curse," Morganstern chided as the door shut behind them. Morgen then ran. She ran through the halls to the history class- Mara Ray Skyler's class.

* * *

She tripped coming in, but barely regained her balance, and scouted for an empty desk.

"Morgen Sayre?"

Morgen's head swiveled to see the tall woman with frizzy red curls and too-big green eyes that was smiling warmly-for an adult, although there was an edge to it.

"I'm Ms. Skyler, I just want to welcome you to my class, and I'd like to place you here," she said, gesturing to the desk in front of the teacher's. "You're going to like today's class."

"Okay," Morgen said with a shrug, feeling numb and tired after the spike of emotions inspired by Fairchild's class.

The bell rang, and unlike the other classes, the students remained chatting. Ms. Skyler got to her feet. "Alright class," she said, her voice naturally booming over theirs. "As you see, we have a new student? Ready to watch her initiation?"

"Initiation?" Morgen asked, confused and slightly afraid.

"It's fun," Ms. Skyler promised. She then assumed an imperial posture that fitted a woman of her stature perfectly. "Please take the textbook from under your chair and open it to the introduction."

Confused, Morgen did so, aware that the chattering had turned to a whispering and all eyes were on her. She skimmed over the bland preface of how wonderful it would be to learn about history and repeating the previous generation's mistakes.

"Done reading?" Ms. Skyler asked eagerly.

Morgen nodded hesitantly.

"Now forget everything you just read," she said, smiling widely. "You will not be learning about pureblood white male wizard bullshit this year! You will be learning from resources I have spent most of my career tracking down so children can learn how it all really went down! Now rip the introduction from the book!"

"What?" Morgen asked as a boy in the back magicked the trash bin from near him to right by her desk.

"Rip it apart, destroy the lies- let out anything you're feeling on that textbook!" Ms. Skyler encouraged.

Morgen then tore out the first page, remembering every feeling that she didn't belong, that she wouldn't live up to anyone's expectations for her, all the taunts and stupid things. She ripped with impunity, and smiled while doing it, feeling free for once.

"Doesn't that feel good?" Ms. Skyler asked as she grabbed a small muggle object that looked like a tiny gun. "This is a lighter- set the book on fire!"

Morgen didn't hesitate. She clicked the lighter and watched the flame lick the page. She quickly grabbed the edges, then tossed it to the pond in the garden outside, below the fifth story. With starling accuracy, it caused steam to rise into the air.

When Morgen stepped away she became aware of the cheers screaming her name, and they were all cheering, welcoming her into their ranks. For once, Morgen felt both free and like she belonged.


End file.
